The best seat

This morning, I woke to grey skies misted by drizzling rain and the gentle plink-plink-plink of water dripping off leaves.

It feels nice to be cold again.

Cars drive past, their tyres slick with rain, squeezing out tiny showers that spray against the bitumen. Fat drops of rain batter against the windows of the house and shhhhhhhh their way across the rooftop like the perfect soundtrack to an afternoon spent cooking soup or stew. 

The lounge room fort, painstakingly created by Sid to cater for yesterday’s hangover is now a rainy-day-movie-haven, its generous supply of blankets and cushions and stretchy-out leg room already calling for me to abandon this keyboard and lose myself in someone else’s imagination for awhile.

I should probably go and claim the best seat. I have two cats to contend with.